


The Bookseller's Wilfe

by DaughterofPrussia



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Canon Related, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2019-10-24 10:29:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17702666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterofPrussia/pseuds/DaughterofPrussia
Summary: A Canon related but also divergent piece of fan fiction focusing on the relationship of Sophie Duchess of Monmouth and Joseph Weld from the TV Series "Victoria".





	1. An entirely new Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a former Duchess of Monmouth, Sophie now has to get used to a whole new life.

“Big clock collection in the old center of Bucharest“ by Baakie  
[CC BY-SA 3.0 ([https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fcreativecommons.org%2Flicenses%2Fby-sa%2F3.0&t=MjZkNDFjYWY3NTU2YzNlY2E0NzBhZmQ5NWQwZjc1MzYwZjA5MjAxNSxBVlpMRHNpYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F182692142500%2Fthe-booksellers-wife-part-1-an-entirely-new&m=1))], from Wikimedia Commons

 

        Just a few minutes ago, the long-case clock in the living room had struck for the seventh hour of the evening. If nothing unexpected had happened, he would have to arrive immediately.

        She was breathing hard. Every fiber of her body was under tension. She was excited. Very excited, even. This life was so new, so unknown and so different. So much had changed abruptly in her life. It was as if May 10th, 1850, had catapulted her into a completely different world. And in a way that was true. There were so many things she had to learn a new. Things, that were part of the daily routine of the vast majority of people were alien to her. She had been deprived of the skills that almost every woman in this country had learned from early childhood on. The - rich! - merchant’s daughter was not meant for the simple, the normal life. Her mother was firmly convinced of that. And she had done everything to make  _her dreams_ come true in her daughter’s life. No, Sophie was destined to become the wife of a nobleman, a part of the royal court. She was destined for a life of luxury. A life, full of heartache, full of anguish and full of humiliation.

        Once again she checked the table - the plates, the cutlery, the napkins. Everything was in order. At least that’s what she hoped. Then she heard footsteps on the way in front of the house. He was coming home! Her heartbeat quickened. But the footsteps faded away again. It was probably one of the neighbors. She tried to calm down, to keep her _countenance_. She had not only learned that from an early age on. Unlike many others, she had practiced it almost daily for nearly a decade. But what a difference there was between the inner tension in her previous life and the high spirits she was in now. The excitement in her past life was due to the fear she felt whenever her husband was anywhere near. Her current tension came from an entirely different source. She wanted nothing more than to please the man, who, hopefully, would arrive soon. Not because of anxiety, but because she loved him. Not because of concern what his narcissistic character would lead him to do today, but because she desired to make him happy. Not because of fear of an imminent and cruel punishment for everything that wasn’t done perfectly, but because of the honest desire to show him her heartfelt gratitude. Once again, she looked at the prepared dinner table. Gently she touched the delicate flowers in the small vase, which was made in the style of late romanticism. Then she suddenly heard how the front door was unlocked.

         She hurried into the small hall and found him at the cloakroom just as he was taking off his hat.

        “Joseph! How glad I am that you’re here! Let me help you out of the coat!”

        But before she knew it, he had already hung up his coat. He grabbed her outstretched hands, brought them to his mouth and kissed them.

        “Good evening, my love! I am sorry. I’m a little late. There was just one more thing I had to do.”

        He pulled her close, lifted her up a little bit and kissed her.

        “Come on,” she said as they parted, “dinner is ready and we do not want to let it get cold.”

        But he did not react. He looked at her and beamed all over his face. Then he pulled her close and kissed her one more time. Finally, with great care, he let her slide back to her feet.

        “I missed you. I missed you _very_ much!” he whispered in her right ear.

          He still held her gently. Slowly she let her hands wander around his neck. Then she pulled him down and kissed him a third time, asking herself what she did to deserve this wonderful man. Her husband.

 

 


	2. Anniversary (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief insight into the childhood and youth of Joseph Weld.

“Serviette” by  [RitaE](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fserviettenring-serviette-2577635%2F&t=NTNkMzRlNGJjODFlYzcyMTQwYTUxNGEyNGIzOTU4MDg0Njk5ODkzNSxWSWxYenRwMA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F182939350560%2Fdie-frau-des-buchh%C3%A4ndlers-2-jahrestag-1&m=1)

 

        "Dinner!“ she said authoritatively but smiling, while pulling him on one arm into the small dining room.

        "Oh!” was all he could say when he saw the festively decorated table.

         For almost three months now they lived here as a married couple, and on each new day, she had worked diligently to transform the old _house_ he had inherited, into an inviting  _home_ for Joseph and herself. In exactly this order. And her endurance had borne fruit.

        The well-being that had filled Joseph’s soul when, for the first time in years, he had stepped through the old, heavy oak door with its large brass handle, had been fed on his childhood memories. They were good memories combined with feelings of joy and gratitude.

        Only once or twice a year had he had the opportunity to visit his uncle at Oxford. His parents had been too poor to take such a trip regularly. Yes, they even needed uncle Richard to send them money for the trip. Later, in his teenage years and after, the young man had traveled to Oxford on his own. And whenever he was allowed to visit his father’s brother, he had been fascinated by the atmosphere of the city and its history.

        Even more than the city, the person of his uncle impressed him. Growing up in the same pitiful circumstances as his father, his uncle had succeeded in working his way up to become a respected bookseller in one of the country’s most important cities. On each of his visits to Oxford, he studied Richard Weld’s life and behavior with great attention. The son of the simple farmer from Northumberland enjoyed spending time with his uncle in his study. This large room, which was on the first floor of the old house, was more of a library than an office. Joseph loved the warm, dark furniture. He liked to gently slide his hands over the backs of the old, valuable books. He loved the smell of them and the tobacco his uncle used for his pipe.

        He especially enjoyed those evenings where he could sit in one of the two large leather armchairs in front of the fireplace and spend time with his relative. While they drank wine or tea and enjoyed fruits or pastries that Mrs. Nelson had prepared for them, he could discuss all the questions that moved him with the friendly old man. In him, he had not only found a confidant but a man who understood him in a very special way.

        Joseph could comprehend what had moved his father to continue his parents’ farm. One had to honor the ancestors and selling the hard-won legacy they left behind was an act of grave disrespect. But as much as he valued this tradition and the example of his parents, so much did he know that he was not made for the life they lived.

        His uncle was the only person in his family who understood that. Even more. For Joseph, Richard Weld had become a teacher. A teacher who advised him without being instructive. Early on, he had recognized and encouraged the skills of his nephew. Joseph could be sure that, whenever his family visited his uncle at Oxford, he would give him a packet of books on his leave. It was this treasure of paper and ink, that had made him hungry for more knowledge and passionate, to pursue a universal education. And the books he got from his uncle kept that hunger and passion alive.

        Joseph loved his home in Northumberland. The surroundings of Bamburgh could only be described as idyllic. The small town with its towering castle from the sixth century was located on the North Sea beach near the Farne Islands. The border with Scotland was not far and Edinburgh could be reached by a horse within a day. But as much as he felt rooted in this area, he knew so much as a teenager that he needed to leave if he wanted to realize his dreams.

        His dreams. He had never spoken to another person about them. They were too valuable to him to reveal them to anyone who might laugh at him. Early he understood that dreams and goals kept their power and were achievable only if they remained a secret of one’s own soul long enough. There, in the deep silence of this inner place, unreachable for other people, they had to ripen, like a child in the uterus of his mother. Only when it was mature and strong enough to survive could it break the womb and meet the world. For so many years he was ‘pregnant’ with his dreams and goals. Not even his parents knew what really drove him. Never had he mentioned them to another person. Until that decisive day in August 1849. Until the day he met her. On a beach. In Ireland.


	3. Anniversary (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While waiting for dinner to be served, Joseph reflects on the past.

* Meer * Irland * Küste* by [Bayawe](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fmeer-irland-k%25C3%25BCste-des-meeres-ozean-3501776%2F&t=NDNlNDQ4YmQ5NzhkNTgyZjNiMTdkOTY2NjNhM2NiYTRiYWU0Mjg0MCxkeFdhVFFTOA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F183104836560%2Fthe-booksellers-wife-part-3-anniversary-2&m=1) 

 

         That day on that beach in Ireland. Some people would call it a fateful day. But Joseph Weld did not believe in fate. **  
**

         There was little he believed in. In his childhood and adolescence, his mother had tried to convey her belief in God to him. Of course, he had gone through all the rituals prescribed for a member of the Church of England. But for him, that was a duty to be fulfilled in order to be a recognized member of society. For him, unlike his mother, it was not a matter of the heart.

         If Joseph Weld believed in anything, then it was what he had read in his uncle’s books. In May 1843, he had just become 23 years of age, Joseph was looking for a new book in his uncle’s library. It was a Sunday morning and Richard Weld was still asleep. When the young man opened a book on Greek history, a letter fell out of it. His uncle had probably used the document as a bookmark, as he often did. Normally, his relative’s correspondence did not interest Joseph. But while the handwriting in most of the letters reaching his uncle pointed to male correspondents, this letter had obviously been written by a woman. Joseph’s guess was confirmed when he found the signature of an ‘Emilia’ at the end of the document. Curious, he began to read.

         The young woman told his uncle about a trip to the continent, which she undertook with her mother. She was particularly fond of the capital of Austria-Hungary. Emilia reported on a reading evening, which she had attended at the salon of one of her aunts and in which the physician and writer Baron Ernst von Feuchtersleben had read from his recently published book “Beiträge zur Literatur-, Kunst- und Lebenstheorie” ("Contributions to the theory of literature, art and life"). She quoted some of what the Baron had said that evening, including the statement, “Only that is lost, which you give up.”

         Suddenly Joseph forgot what he was looking for in the library. He sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace and began to think. Wasn’t that exactly what life was about? The realization of one’s dreams? Achieving the goals one had set for oneself? He was aware that nothing would be given to him in this world with its solid social classes for free. Yet he was determined to succeed in becoming rich and famous. He would not remain the son of a poor farmer from Bamburgh forever.   
         And a first step was made by entering into the service of the Duke of Devonshire. On his trip to Oxford, he had met an employee of the nobleman and had come into conversation with the person. So he had learned that they were looking for a new footman in Chatsworth House at Bakewell in Derbyshire. Immediately after he arrived, he had written to the Duke and offered his service. Shortly thereafter, he was invited to introduce himself and in fact, was granted the job. It had been agreed that after the end of the harvest when he wanted to help his parents one last time, he would begin with his duties at Chatsworth House.   
         “Only that is lost, which you give up,” Emilia had quoted von Feuchtersleben. Joseph Weld would not lose anything, because he would not give up until he had achieved his goals.

         It was this conviction, that everything was possible, that one aspired if one seized the opportunity and struggled for it persistently. That conviction had led Joseph on that day on the beach of Sligo. As he loved it, he had left Osborn House secretly early in the morning, hurrying to the nearby bay to take a bath. How he loved the sea! Apart from his parents and his horse, the sea was the only thing he missed since living in London.  
         He had not noticed her approach, but as he was about to put on his shirt again, he saw her: Sophie. She was only a few feet away and as surprised as he was.

         Since he first saw her, _really_ saw her, he was lost. He knew that what he felt for her could put him at risk, high risk. Not only was she married, but she was also a duchess. But the more time he spent in her presence, the more he had to experience how much she suffered from her husband’s vicious insults and humiliations, the more his feelings for her grew. He couldn’t help but court her. At first, it seemed that she was looking for comfort with Lord Palmerston. But when the royal family was brought to safety on the island of Wright to protect them from the revolutionary aspirations in London, it seemed as if the Secretary of State also bitterly disappointed Sophie’s feelings. Joseph had never known the true reason. Crucial, however, was that he was there when Sophie shed tears over Palmerston’s rejection. And it was the footman’s handkerchief that caught those tears. That was also the moment when he could talk to her for the first time about his love for the sea. Finally, it had paid off that he had followed her whenever he had a chance.

         When they met on the beach that morning, he decided it was time to take the initiative. He challenged her to a small race and she actually agreed. She was a duchess, but obviously, the class gap between them didn’t stop her from doing so. Would she be ready to take one step further? He then told her quite frankly: they were both the same. Despite class differences, they were both exposed to the moods of those under whose authority they stood. If he had to endure the treacherousness of Mr. Penge, then Sophie had to endure the vulgarities of her husband. And when she seemed to agree, he had revealed his dreams to her. He had asked her which boarding school her son was sent to and then he stated that his son would go to Eaton. At first, she was startled. Apparently, she thought he was married because she asked in astonishment: "You have a son?” But when he answered “No!”, she understood what he wanted to tell her. He had dreams, plans, goals. He would not remain a servant at the royal court forever. He wanted to start a family. He wanted to have a son. And this son should get the best education at one of the best institutions in the country. Sophie knew what that implied. Only wealthy, influential people, nobles or successful business people could afford that.

         His words - and even more so the look of his face - had triggered something in her that she could not put into words, even not later. This man was so alive, so full of energy and confidence. He was everything the Duke of Monmouth was not. Hitherto unknown desires and dreams shot up in her soul like the young shoots of the Forsythia in spring. Before she knew it, she asked him to kiss her. But he did not respond as she had expected. He straightened himself, looked at her and then in his deep baritone voice she heard him say, “I offer you love, Sophie, nothing less.” Joseph Weld was serious, he was not talking about a temporary affair. He wasn’t searching for a new trophy of his “collection,” like Palmerston always did. He wanted her, all of her. He wanted her as his wife and as the mother of his children. She was not able to think about the consequences at that moment, she just knew she had never felt happier than at that moment for at least ten years. Realizing that someone really loved her, not her inheritance. He loved her for herself. The moment they first kissed at the beach of Sligo, would forever remain one of the happiest moments of her whole life.

         Joseph too felt that way. All he had hoped for this morning was to take a bath in the sea and maybe catch a friendly look from her at some point during the day. He had not been able to imagine that only a few minutes after his morning bath he would confess his love to her and she would answer him. Of course, his goal had been to win her. But the suddenness of his success had taken him by surprise.

         Yet only a few months later he had almost completely destroyed that perfect fortune.

      On the evening of that day in May 1843, when he had accidentally found the letter of the - to him - unknown Emilia, his uncle was visited by a friend named John. This man, a descendant of an Irish noble family and hence also known by the nickname “the Irish clergyman”, had once been a member of the clergy of the Church of England, but had left it for reasons of conscience. Since then, he devoted himself to translating the Bible into various languages, had worked as a theological writer, and traveled regularly to the continent to give biblical lectures. They had dinner and then sat together over a glass of wine in the library. There had been an animated conversation about life in general and about Joseph’s plans in particular. His uncle’s Irish friend left the next day. As he said goodbye to Joseph, he said, “It is very understandable that a young man like you has such desires and plans. But you should remember one thing: ambitions without ethics and morality lead to destruction. Without a compass, you lose your direction.” Polite, as he was, Joseph thanked for the advice. But when he returned to the house, he could only smile about it. What did this noble clergyman know about real life? He certainly had not to worry about money as those, who belonged to one of the lower classes. No, this man did not have to fight for his place in society. That was the difference between them. Joseph knew that nothing would be given to him for free. But he would fight for it, with all the means at his disposal. Ethics? Moral? His parents and uncle had both. And yes, Richard Weld had been successful in his business. But what had ethics and morality helped his parents? No, these old-fashioned ideas would not stop him from realizing his dreams.

         Years later, after fleeing the events in London and returning to his uncle’s house, he recalled the words of the Irish clergyman. Ashamed, he had to admit that the old man had been right. He had no compass for his life and he had lost everything he wanted. At least that’s what he believed at that time. He could have renounced wealth and fame. He was sure of that. It was not that important to him anymore. But would he ever get over the greatest loss of his life? The loss of his beloved Sophie? No, he was not sure. It was not just the loss of the woman he loved above everything else in his life that greatly depressed him. It was the guilt that weighed on his soul. Without wanting to, he had hurt her deeply. By the carelessness of his words, he had made her feel that she was nothing more than a means to an end. Sophie felt betrayed and sold, and rightly so. She hoped for so much! Yes, she believed that Joseph was different. She had been convinced that he was different from the Duke, from Palmerston, and from all the men she had met in the ‘high society’. But he too had disappointed her.

         The fact that he sat at this table with her today, that they had been a married couple for almost three months, was nothing but a mystery he could not explain. It was a miracle he had not earned in the least. All he could do was pray that he would prove himself worthy of this second chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to thank all of you for reading, commenting and leaving kudos. I can't tell you what that means to me.


	4. Anniversary (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joseph and Sophie celebrate their special anniversary with a good meal and a little bit more.

“Anhänger” by [Paolinio](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fanh%25C3%25A4nger-ornament-aussetzung-golden-3092615%2F&t=NjZmMTU1ZDhkZGUzODY5NmY4ZWQ0YTA5ZDIxMDQ1M2UzMTEzNDMxZixsM2dkb28zaQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F183442588460%2Fthe-booksellers-wife-part-4-anniversary-3&m=1)

 

 

         "Joseph? Joseph! "

         Her voice reached his consciousness as slowly as the bell of the nearby church tower, which woke him every morning at five o'clock.

         "Joseph! _Where_ are you?"

         He looked at her, then he slowly realized that there was a bowl of soup in front of him and that she held out her right hand to him.

         "Excuse me. I was in thoughts."

         He took her hand, bent his head, and said a short prayer of thanksgiving. But after the usual "Amen!" he did not let go of her hand, but pulled it to him and kissed it.

         "Thank you, Sophie, for the wonderfully laid table and of course for the food."

         She smiled.

         "Eat, or the soup will get cold."

         When she brought the main meal, Joseph's eyes widened again, and not just because the grilled beef brisket looked delicious in a bed of vegetables and potatoes.

         "That's ... that's ..."

         "Your favorite dish?" she asked with a mischievous smile.

         "Yes," was all he could answer.

         "Well, then I hope I prepared it in the right way."

         "Oh, I’m sure you did."

         She filled his plate and set it down in front of him.

         "Enjoy your meal."

         "Thanks," he said, still surprised.

         "Try it first and see if you like it. Maybe it's not good at all?"

         "Oh, I can not imagine that ..."

         Sophie had filled her plate too and sat down.

         "You would still praise my cooking skills even if I served you a piece of coal with vegetables."

         He reached for her hand again and kissed it.

         "No," he said, "I wouldn’t do that. We promised each other honesty, didn’t we?"

         "Yes," she said, pulling her hand away and starting to eat.

         As a dessert, Sophie brought small cakes and coffee. When the cakes had been eaten, Sophie wanted to clear the table, but Joseph held her back.

         "Please, stay a moment my love. I ... I have a ... a little surprise for you."

         He got up and walked behind her. Sophie looked up at him questioningly.

         "Could you please close your eyes?"

         She followed his request. But she did so with a bad feeling. The last time a man had stood behind her like that was in Monmouth House. Her former husband had offered to put a necklace on her and he had taken the opportunity to humiliate her once more. The bad memory made her shudder again. But then she felt Joseph, who had apparently also put a necklace on her, leaning down to her.

         "It's exactly three years today ... three years since that first kiss in Ireland," he whispered in a hoarse voice. Then she felt his lips leave a gentle trace of kisses from her ear down to her shoulder.

         She groped cautiously for the silk ribbon that he had placed around her neck, and then her hand found the heart-shaped medallion attached to it.

         "Joseph! You thought of our day."

         "How could I forget this day? Thank you for loving me, Sophie," he whispered, still hoarse.

         She opened her eyes, wrapped her arm around his neck, and pulled him down to her. Then she kissed him, persistently and passionately. When she let go, he slid down on his knees.

         "It’s not much. I wish I could give you so much more, Sophie. Since the day I saw you for the first time, really saw you, I wanted to lay down the world at your feet. But ... since you gave me a second chance ... even the whole universe would not be enough. I can’t tell you how thankful I am."

         Again he kissed her hands. When he released her, she took his head and looked at him.

         "Joseph, I don’t need fancy titles, wealth, diamonds ... I've had it all, and what kind of life did I have? Nothing but a golden cage! Every housemaid had more liberty than me. And without you, I would still be caught in that golden cage! Please, stop looking back. I have everything I need."

         She wanted to pull him into another kiss. But he backed away. He looked at her for a moment. His whole face was serious.

         "You would tell me if you were missing something, Sophie? Please, my love, we promised each other honesty!"

         She looked at him just as seriously. Then she said:

         "I have a husband who loves me, whom I can rely on, who really cares and provides for me. We can finally live together in freedom. We have a home of ourselves. Joseph, what on earth should I miss ?! Life at the royal court with its absurd costume balls and all the intrigues? A life where marron glacés can be served every day, but where people who love each other can not even touch each other by the hands? A life full of luxury and full of restrictions? A life where you are monitored at every turn? That's no life. That’s a luxurious dungeon!"

         Sophie realized that her tone had become angry. After a moment's silence, she continued more kindly:

         "I missed you so much. For eighteen months I’ve terribly missed you. Eighteen months I’ve lived between hope and fear. And in the six months that followed, I’ve missed you as well. Every new day. But at least ... at least I knew that our separation would end. And for three months now, I'm finally allowed to live with you. I can touch you, kiss and love you, when and how much I want. No stolen glances, no secrets anymore. Our love is finally free. Tell me, Joseph, what should I miss?"

         She pulled him close and kissed him. When they parted again, she said smiling:

         "Now that I think about it ... There's really something you could do for me ...."

         "And what would that be?"

         "I could use some help with washing dishes, Mr. Weld."

         He grinned and shook his head slightly. Then he got up and kissed her brow lightly.

         "Always at your service, Mrs. Weld."

         He took the cups and plates and followed her into the kitchen.

         Half an hour later, he hung the drying cloth on a hook near the kitchen cupboard. Then he approached Sophie, who was standing with her back to him. He put his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair. Slowly she turned around. Then she put her head against his chest.

         "And what is it that the Queen wishes now?"

         She looked at him in astonishment.

         "The Queen? Victoria is the queen, I ... "

         But he did not let her finish the sentence.

         "Victoria, my love, is only the queen of Britain. You are the queen of my heart. That's something that Victoria will never be."

         She rolled her eyes, but then a conspiratorial smile spread across her face.

         "The Queen, my dear Joseph, would like to be carried up to our chamber. Because the queen wishes to celebrate this special day not just with a meal."

         Joseph took a stance.

         "I understand, Your Majesty, and Your wish is my command."

         Before she knew it, he had picked her up and carried her in both arms. He turned to the table and with one powerful breeze he blew out the candles that stood there.

         "If Your Majesty would please take the night lamp."

         Sophie reached for the lantern and the next moment he carried her through the open kitchen door, which he slammed behind him with a skillful movement of his right foot. Then he carried her swiftly through the small hall, up the stairs to their bedchamber.


	5. Nocturnal memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After celebrating their anniversary, Joseph remembers how he and Sophie get to know each other.
> 
> I like to ask my readers to check out the Tumblr blog of http://stardust-pond.tumblr.com/ for her wonderful Sophie-and-Joseph-gifs and also the following youtube videos that feature our special couple:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_77VqIEz0Qo
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oPVUgRg6d1Y
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y9JMOG6e7WQ
> 
> Please leave a comment at the artist's blog/channel!

“Architektur” by [PublicDomainPictures](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Farchitektur-sch%25C3%25B6ne-geb%25C3%25A4ude-kirche-20787%2F&t=MDBhZjZhZTMwNTc0ZGIzMDI3NmU2OTlkOGM2OGExODAzN2FkNGM1NSxmQkxBdkgzVw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F183732506930%2Fthe-booksellers-wife-part-5-nocturnal&m=1)

 

 

         The bell of the nearby church tower had rung for the fourth hour of the day a few minutes ago. A light breeze blew through the open window. It pushed the curtains a little more to the sides. Some rays of the bright moonlight fell on Sophie’s face through the gap, the breeze left. She lay, her legs drawn to her chest as usual, with her back to Joseph, who was sitting with his back at the bed wall. He had woken up sometime before and when he could not fall asleep again, he had begun to watch his beautiful wife. First, she had placed her head on his chest. Sometime later she turned on her back. That had given him the opportunity to sit up. About ten minutes ago, she had turned from her back to her left side, her legs slightly tightened.  
         It was not the first time he watched her in her sleep. Sophie often changed her position, but one thing always stayed the same. No matter how and wherever she turned, somehow she managed that their physical contact never stopped. If she had first laid her head on his chest, then, as her body moved to the next position, she had still put her right arm over his chest. As she turned to the left, she had pulled her arm away from him, but at the next moment, Joseph felt her whole back against his left side.

        He took a deep breath. What was it that he had fallen in love with this woman? What had made him love her like no other human? Was it her appearance? Yes, she was beautiful. That was beyond doubt. But she was not the only beautiful woman he had met at the royal court. There were beautiful women not only among the ladies-in-waiting or among the nobles who appeared time and again. Even among the servants, there were women who were “nice to watch” - as Francatelli, the cook, had put it. And yet, there was something that made her more attractive than any other woman he had ever met.  
         Joseph remembered exactly when he had first noticed her. It happened that evening when the Queen gave a dinner in honor of the deposed King of France. Louis Philippe had arrived in London the day before and had asked his English cousin for asylum. Just a few days earlier, Joseph Weld had taken up his post as the new footman at Buckingham Palace. It was only later that he learned that Sophie also had not served as Her Majesty’s “Lady of the Robes” for long.  
         That evening, Mr. Penge had ordered him to serve, and accordingly, he stood beside one of the doors in the main corridor of the palace. A few minutes before the scheduled dinner, most of the guests had gathered there. Lord Paget, Lady Portman, and Sophie were engaged in a conversation when Sophie’s husband, the Duke of Monmouth, intervened and asked her how she was performing her duties. When she joyfully showed him a brooch that the Queen had given her in recognition of her service, he rebuked her and blamed her for wearing the brooch “in the wrong way”. The Foreign Minister, Lord Palmerston, and the Prime Minister, Sir Robert Peel, became aware of the Duke’s ungallant behavior. But Lady Portmann found a way to free Sophie from the uncomfortable situation. Lord Palmerston, however, insisted on reprimanding the Duke in his own special way. Then appeared the Queen, Prince Albert and the - former - King of France. When Princess Feodora arrived shortly afterward, the group was complete and left the main corridor for dinner.  
         Joseph had watched the entire event with great attention. It had not escaped him how Sophie reacted when she was publicly humiliated by her husband. The despair on her face had struck a string in his soul. What he had seen and heard that evening had ignited a deep desire in him, not only to protect her but to give her all that she deserved. He would forever remember that moment as the moment he had _actually_ seen her for the first time.  
  
         Only a few days later they were supposed to meet in a more direct way. Once again Joseph had been chosen by Mr. Penge to serve at the main corridor. The reception of Louis Philippe at the royal court had aroused great aversion and great excitement among the citizen of the British capital. Lord Palmerston and Sir Peel had repeatedly been called to the palace for consultations. A few minutes after such a meeting between the Queen and her ministers had come to an end, the men met Sophie in the main corridor. It was the time of the early evening and she was about to leave the palace. Of course, Lord Palmerston could not leave it alone with a friendly greeting. After learning that the Duke was in his club, he offered to bring the Duchess home. But then the Prime Minister intervened and forbade Palmerston to take care of the Duchess. Inexorably Sir Peel explained that the men had to go to the parliament and that the Duchess should stay at the palace since the streets were unsafe “because of the Chartists”. Palmerston obeyed, only reluctantly, and Sophie had no choice but to follow the Prime Ministers words. After Peel and Palmerston had left, Sophie stripped off her cloak. She stood there indecisively for a moment, then she approached him. She handed Joseph the cloak and asked him to bring it to her room. It was the first time she looked at him and addressed him directly. He took the cloak and bowed slightly. When she left, he could not help himself, but follow her with his eyes. Unfortunately, it had been noticed by Mr. Penge. The old steward immediately rebuked Joseph and made it clear to him what the boundaries between a footman and a Duchess were. When he had told the royal steward that he had understood, Joseph was finally able to complete the assignment and bring the cloak to Sophie’s room.           He took the opportunity and looked around her chamber. It was not much different from that of the other nobles who held any official functions at the royal court. There were a few books on her bedside table whose titles were unknown to him. Besides the books stood the oval miniature of a painting showing a little boy. Joseph took the cloak and smelled at it briefly. The scent of a floral perfume filled his nose. He could not remember smelling a similar fragrance before. Or was that just his imagination? He laid the cloak carefully on the bed. The Duchess would find it there at the latest when she went to bed. Maybe she would remember the footman who had put it there. While he was still looking at the cloak, suddenly the insane wish arose in him that the Duchess should not only remember him but better dream of him. But he immediately dismissed this idea and when he left the room, he had to smile about his own craziness.

  
        A few hours later, he should remember his wish, for that night, hardly anyone in the royal household would get any sleep. It was the night Princess Louise, the sixth child of Queen Victoria, was to be born. Shortly after the Prime Minister and his Foreign Minister had left the palace that evening, a large crowd gathered in front of the building. The demonstrators demanded that the former French King should leave the country. In the following hours, further demands were expressed and the protest became more and more intense. Then, stones were thrown and some windows of the palace were broken. Not only Prince Albert feared that these and similar demonstrations could grow into an actual revolution. With the Queen, the excitement caused an acceleration in the birth that was already expected for those days.  
         For the time being, however, Joseph did not learn anything about it. Mr. Penge had ordered him to serve in one of the rooms near the headquarter of the palace guard. There he was to serve Lord Alfred Paget, King Louis Philippe and the Duke of Monmouth. Lord Paget had suggested that the former French King "was taken to safety there". But instead of waiting silently for the end of the demonstrations, Louis-Philippe turned the triad into a drinking party with card games, making lewd jokes. Joseph was just disgusted by all of this. In particular, he felt disturbed by the fact that the Duke of Monmouth had been called to the palace and joined Lord Paget and Louis-Philippe. The reason for Monmouth’s presence, he should learn later. He stared straight at the aristocrats, serving them as it was his duty. Given the danger the Royal Household was in at that time, the behavior of these men was not only completely inappropriate but downright treacherous. But if he had to endure them, then at least Joseph wanted to use the opportunity to observe these men closely, especially the Duke of Monmouth. One never knew what such observations might be useful for.   
        During the night, the sounds that came from the palace gates became louder. Suddenly, Prince Albert appeared. Joseph suspected that he had come from the palace guard’s command and that he had just ordered to reinforce the guards. His guess later turned out to be correct. The footman immediately realized that the Prince could hardly restrain the wrath that the gambling party of the drunken men had caused in him. But the Queen’s husband seemed to have no time. He rebuked the three men and wanted to leave. At that moment, Sophie appeared. She was obviously in search of Prince Albert, for she bowed to him and told him that the Queen had asked for him and that “the moment had come”. As Albert walked out of the room, Sophie turned to her already heavily drunk husband and asked him what he did at the palace. The Duke explained to her - more babbling than speaking - that he had been summoned to the palace as a member of the Privy Council, to be there during the birth of the new royal child. When Sophie asked him why he was then playing card games with King Louis-Philippe, knowing how much Prince Albert despised such a thing, the Duke took the opportunity to humiliate his wife once again. Disgustingly, he called her a courtier, then turned back to the game with Louis-Philippe and Lord Alfred. Sophie paused for a moment, then turned and left the room. But this short period was enough. Joseph had seen how hurt she was. Irrepressible anger made his way through his whole body but remained well hidden behind the footman’s rigid mask.   
         At that moment, for the first time, it occurred to him that perhaps there was something good in this whole situation. He was aware that under normal circumstances he would never have a chance to win Sophie over. The class gap between them was too large for him to even dare to hope that he could ever express his feelings towards her. But perhaps the Duke, with his abhorrent behavior, would help to bridge those differences? Could it not be that, just as the Chartists sought a way out of their oppression by the wealthy, Sophie sought a way out of the dungeon of her marriage? Joseph did not know. But he made a decision: Whenever she would try, he would be there for her. He would not give up until he won her over. Whatever it would cost. 


	6. Tears in the Night (1a)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for delaying this story for so long. I hope I will be able to post new chapters more regularly on Sunday evenings.

“Sonnenuntergang” by [unjerri](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fsonnenuntergang-oxford-turm-1192602%2F&t=MTQzOTc3OTMxNzUwODE0MDBmMGIyYmYzNzhlZTViMjQ3ZDA1NmVlOSw0TUcxaEVQSQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187884977675%2Fdie-frau-des-buchh%25C3%25A4ndlers-6-tr%25C3%25A4nen-in-der&m=1) 

 

         While Joseph had thought about his first encounters with Sophie, she had turned several times and now lay on her back again. While she had turned into this position, she had brought her right arm so close to the left side of his body that not even a sheet of paper would fit between it. Probably in the foreseeable future, she would turn back to her right side and put her left arm over his chest. He had to smile when he thought of it. Not for a moment did she allow a separation.   
         The moonlight was still shining on Sophie’s face, this face he could no longer imagine his life without. How much he would have loved to touch her. How much would he have loved to tenderly trace the features of her beautiful face and how much more he would have wanted to lose himself in her, as he had done only a few hours before.

   
         But no, he would avoid everything that could wake her up now. She needed her strength, her sleep. For several days he had observed that she was not feeling well. Sophie had said nothing, but he had noticed again and again that she was slightly exhausted, sat down more often to rest. From time to time she had put a hand on her stomach or on one of the sides of her chest and paused. He had no doubt that he knew the reason for his wife’s exhaustion. Ever since they had come to Oxford from London, Sophie had worked tirelessly to turn his uncle’s old house into a cozy home. She had simply put too much effort into it.   
         Since Joseph had taken over his inheritance (his uncle’s bookshop and house) after his uncle’s sudden death six months ago, he had hardly had a quiet minute for himself or Sophie. In the last few years, his uncle’s physical and intellectual power had obviously diminished noticeably. Although the bookshop was not broke, on the contrary, it had a very solid foundation of capital. But Joseph knew only too well from conversations with his uncle’s co-worker that he was not allowed to let things go on ‘as usual’. The competition between the bookdealers in the city was fierce, and if they didn’t find new ways to retain customers and acquire new ones, they could quickly have to charge their deposits. He did not want that to happen. On the contrary, he not only wanted to secure his uncle’s business but to expand it. Together, he and Lucas Myers, whom he had taken over from his uncle, made plans on how to retain old customers, win new ones, buy and deliver books more cheaply. It took a lot of work and time. He was still needed in the bookstore every working day, so he had never been able to help Sophie much. Mrs. Nelson, his uncle’s old housekeeper, did help her with many of her tasks. But obviously, Sophie’s constitution was not strong enough to meet the requirements she had imposed on herself. But that would change in the coming weeks. Just the day before, he had hired two young students as helpers alongside his main employee. One would manage the restructured warehouse under the supervision of Lucas Myers, while the other would deliver the books ordered by the customers. So far, Myers or himself had done this work, in addition to the many other tasks involved in running the bookshop. From now on, he could concentrate fully on the business and that would also allow him to come home earlier and help his wife. He would insist that she take more time for the individual chores and help her wherever he could. Joseph Weld would not miss the second chance that life had given him. He had sworn that to himself.

         The chance of his life. Two years ago he had gambled it away. Playful forever. At least that’s what he thought at the time.

         The intoxication into which the first kiss on the beach of Sligo (and everything that had happened afterward) was indescribable.

         He remembered well. It was an open secret that the royal cook, Charles Elmé Francatelli and Nancy Skerrett, the queen’s dresser, were in love. All the servants (except for Mr. Penge) knew about it - and remained silent. Francatelli had often said that he wanted to end his service at Buckingham Palace and buy a small hotel. And - in the midst of the unrest that the Chartists had caused in London -  Charles had found a suitable establishment.   
         Joseph appreciated them both - Francatelli because he was a free spirit and even openly answer back Mr. Penge, and Mrs. Skerrett because she saw more to her work for the Queen than just a service to perform. It was only a matter of time before they would be married. This prospect and the looks of love that the two exchanged, even if only very carefully and hidden, reminded Joseph again and again of the secret love, the love that he himself felt.

         And it was precisely in this outwardly (and for Joseph also inwardly) revolutionary time that he was allowed to get one step closer to Sophie. It happened the afternoon before the Royal Household’s departure for the Island of Wright. As Lady of the Robes, it was Sophie’s duty to accompany the Queen. But at the same time, Sophie felt an obligation to her son William. If she couldn’t take him with her, she wanted at least to say goodbye to him. This afternoon,  Joseph again was on duty at the main corridor of the palace and so he witnessed a conversation between Sophie and Lady Portmann. Lady Portmann understood that Sophie wanted to say goodbye to her son, but objected that Sophie should not go to Monmouth House unaccompanied due to the danger of the unrest caused by the Chartists. While she was still speaking, she looked over to Joseph standing next to one of the doorways. Before he knew it, Lady Portmann spoke to him:

         "Joseph, accompany the Duchess and make sure she gets safely to Monmouth House and back to the palace.“

         He would not have obeyed any other order more willingly. 

         An hour later Sophie’s carriage stopped outside Monmouth House. As the Duchess went into the manor, Joseph took the opportunity to look inside the carriage. He noticed that on the inside of it, between the bench and the wall, there was a small, elongated box. He pulled it out and opened it. A series of handmade tin soldiers came to light. This was certainly a gift for her son, that Sophie had forgotten in all the commotion that had befallen the palace. Joseph took the box and hurried after her. When he entered the hall of Monmouth House, accompanied by another servant, Sophie was talking to a boy about six years old. It was clear that the son would not let his mother go again, however, well she tried to comfort him. Sophie looked up and down from the boy to Joseph, who held the box up to her.

         "Your Grace,” he said while he indicated a bow. Sophie looked at him in surprise.

         "You left this in the carriage. I thought it might be useful,“ he continued. Then he handed her the box. A smile spread on Sophie’s face. It was obvious that she had completely forgotten the gift for her son.

         Joseph stepped back and took the place next to the door as he was accustomed. Sophie opened the box and handed it to her son.

         "Look, William, I brought you a present.”

         "Oh Mama,“ the little guy exclaimed joyfully, "now I finally have enough soldiers for a real battle!”

         Joseph watched with joy as the situation between mother and son relaxed a little. But at that moment the Duke of Monmouth appeared on the stairs. Instead of greeting his wife, he immediately rebuked her again and the fact that servants had to hear his words didn’t seem to bother him.

         "Ah, Duchess! So it’s no wonder that our son falls more and more behind in his lessons when you distract him from learning with such childish gimmicks!”              

         "We just said goodbye,” Sophie answered, and the next moment little William complained again:

         "Please Mama, don’t go away!“

         But even the child was immediately sharply reprimanded by the duke:

         "Stop crying and go to your room immediately!”

         The boy took the box and ran up the stairs. The Duke looked after him. Then he turned to his wife with further hard words:

         "I think it’s an excellent thing that you’re going to Osborn. Maybe then you will learn to behave differently. It may be that the class of the grocers’ mollycoddles their children, but William one day will be a duke!“

         Sophie looked at the duke stunned at this new humiliation, and Joseph had to keep every fiber of his body under control so as not to break every bone in the body of the narrow-minded bloke. Then the duke turned to him:  
  
         "You! Get the Duchess’s carriage!”

         Joseph indicated a bow, turned around and walked towards the entrance. The Duke also disappeared. Shortly before the entrance door, Joseph waited until Sophie appeared.  It was obvious how much the events of the last few minutes had burdened her. The large entrance door of the house was opened by a servant who let Sophie step out. Joseph, who had followed her at some distance, hurried past her to open the door of the carriage. When she had entered and he closed the door behind her, he saw crying. He wished he had the means to ‘help’ this wretched man, whose birth had accidentally given him the title of Duke.  He would have loved to pay back three times each of the humiliations Sophie had to endure. But when he climbed up to the coachman, he thought again that perhaps the Duke’s behavior could lead to the tearing down of the social divide between him and the woman he loved.


	7. Tears in the Night (1b)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joseph Weld recalls events on the Isle of Wight.

“Sonnenuntergang” by [unjerri](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fsonnenuntergang-oxford-turm-1192602%2F&t=MTQzOTc3OTMxNzUwODE0MDBmMGIyYmYzNzhlZTViMjQ3ZDA1NmVlOSw0TUcxaEVQSQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187884977675%2Fdie-frau-des-buchh%25C3%25A4ndlers-6-tr%25C3%25A4nen-in-der&m=1)

 

         Joseph smiled as he thought back to that day. When he returned from the trip to Monmouth House, the royal household was already in great excitement. Everywhere things were packed and everyone planned for the forthcoming trip to the island of Wight. And the next morning, early in the morning, the journey started. First, everything was packed in carriages, then into the specially provided railway wagons. For many of the servants, it was the first train ride with a train, and Joseph could hardly hide his excitement. After they had arrived in Southampton everything had to be repacked again. First into the carriages, then onto the steamboat that would bring the queen and the royal court to the island. It was a lot of work, but Joseph enjoyed the arrival at the sea and the following journey with the ship very much. After the ship had arrived in the port of destination, all the luggage had to be reloaded into carriages. Then the journey went towards Osborn House, where the royal court would spend the next few weeks. In contrast to the previous parts of their journey, this time the drive did not take very long. Only one hour later they arrived at Osborn House. Again they had to unload the carriages and carry everything into the house. When Joseph fell into his bed that evening, he knew what he had done. The reward of that day was more than honestly earned.

          The following days, however, were to compensate him amply for the hardships of the journey. The Osborn House estate was small compared to Buckingham Palace in London. The chance that he met Sophie at his daily services was, therefore, all the greater. Already on the second day of their stay there, Joseph should have ample opportunity to stay near Sophie. Prince Albert had set himself the goal of having his children perform the historical Battle of Waterloo as a kind of little play. The whole thing took place in the garden of Osborn House and the members of the royal court acted as spectators. Joseph and the cook Francatelli were chosen to play the warhorses of the different war commanders. Francatelli carried Prince Bertie on his shoulders, who played the Duke of Wellington, and Joseph acted as warhorse for Princess Victoria, who acted as Napoleon. Both “warhorses” had to be careful again and again that they were not hit in the eagerness of the battle by one of the wooden swords of “Napoleon” or by the “Duke of Wellington”. At some distance from the “battlefield” stood Mr. Penge, who - to his chagrin - had to beat a small drum. Actually, Joseph would have liked to see Penge that way, but he didn’t appreciate the Royal Administrator’s gaze. He only had eyes for Sophie, who also always smiled at him. In the situation in which they found themselves, this was completely inconspicuous, because their friendly looks could have gone through at any time as encouragements for the little prince or the little princess.

          The little play came to an end when the young servant Brodie brought a letter for the Queen, in which she was told what derogatory words the Foreign Minister, Lord Palmerston, had spoken about her and the other crowned heads of Europe in the House of Commons.

          When the servants returned to the kitchen shortly thereafter, Joseph saw Francatelli submit his letter of resignation to Mr. Penge. A little later he learned that the cook and Mrs. Skerrett had married the day before leaving for the island of Wight. He didn’t envy the happiness the two colleagues shared, but it strengthened Joseph’s own desire to be close to Sophie.

          In the afternoon of the same day, he finally had the opportunity again. Lady Portman, Princess Feodora, and Sophie had gathered for tea in one of the small round rooms on the north side, which were also used as reading rooms. Joseph’s task was to serve them. As he did so, he witnessed their conversation, which focused primarily on the Foreign Secretary, Lord Palmerston. He had used the royal couple’s absence to welcome the Hungarian opposition leader and revolutionary Lajos Kossuth, who was seeking asylum in the United Kingdom, to the British capital. Already in the morning, during the children’s game in the garden, it had become clear how much the Foreign Minister’s behavior had angered the Queen and the Prince Consort. Shortly after Brodie had delivered the letter from London, the royal couple had left and retreated to their private rooms.

          Now Lady Portman brought the conversation back to the events in London. She had the current newspaper with her and noticed that the remarks Palmerston had made in Parliament had hurt the Queen very much. Joseph had seen the newspapers in the kitchen and heard from the other servants that the Foreign Minister had described the crowned heads of Europe (including the Queen!) as doves who had left their nests because they were afraid of the “cat”, Mr. Lajos Kossuth. He had even added that the country could be well administered without these “birds”. Lady Portman referred to a cartoon showing the Queen and the Prince Consort as pigeons flying away from London. “Fleeing London” was written in large letters above it.

          “The man is a scoundrel,” said Sophie, who wanted to confirm Lady Portman’s remarks. But then Lady Portman steered the conversation in another direction:

          “I wonder how long we’ll stay on the island. Your Royal Highness will surely yearn to finally go home.”

          But Princess Feodora reacted differently than expected:

          “The only home I have right now is with my sister and if she decides to live on an island, so be it.”

          After a moment, the Princess of Leiningen added:

          “I wish, however, that my room had a window facing the sea.”

          “My room has a window to the sea, do we want to swap?” Sophie offered.

          “Oh, that’s very kind. But surely you want to be able to return home soon? Your husband certainly longs for you,” gave the princess back. With that, she had hit exactly Sophie’s sore spot.

          “Do you know what this man did? He sent our son to boarding school. The child is just six years old!”

          Joseph did not escape the pain in Sophie’s voice.

          "It is better that I am here,” she added, reaching for another piece of toast.

          Joseph was not surprised when a few days later the Prime Minister, Lord John Russell, and the Foreign Secretary, Lord Palmerston, arrived at Osborn House. Among the employees, bets had been made about how long it would take for the Queen to order the Foreign Secretary to report. Talking to Francatelli, he had learned that Prime Minister wished for Palmerston to be dismissed but did not do so because he feared his opposition even more.

          When he had an hour off in the afternoon, Joseph retreated to a corner of the garden of which he thought it was not frequented by members of the court. He made himself comfortable on one of the chairs standing there, stretched out and held his face towards the sun. He almost dozed off, but then he heard footsteps and suddenly Sophie stood in front of him. She had a book under her arm and looked at him slightly amused. Joseph stood up immediately and took a stance.

          “I wish to exchange my room with Princess Feodora,” she said, adding, “She wishes to look out at the sea. Could you arrange that?”

          “Of course, Your Grace,” he had assured us, and when she turned to leave, he wished for nothing more than for her to linger for a moment and for him to talk to her.

          “Looking out at the sea is a wonderful thing.”

          “For me, it makes no difference what I look at when it’s not my little boy,” Sophie replied and her face darkened noticeably.

          “I’m very sorry that you had to part with him …”

          Joseph’s words were sincere, but he saw in their facial expressions that they only made Sophieeven sadder.

          “Sorry.”

          Feverishly he searched in his mind for something to say to her that might cheer her up. But all he could think of was:

          “By the way, the prime minister and the foreign minister have arrived…”

          Sophie’s reaction surprised him.

         "Lord Palmerston,“ she said and her face lit up immediately. It was obvious that she was pleased with the news. On her way out, she turned around again and asked, "Joseph? That’s the name, isn’t it?”

         He nodded. When he looked up again, she had disappeared.

          On the same evening, the smaller court, including the two politicians, gathered for a ‘cozy get-together’ in the larger library. It was Joseph’s task to provide the guests with port wine. Sophie stood at one of the bookshelves and read something. When he came to her to fill her glass, he noticed that the collar of her dress had warped and slipped far down her shoulder. Joseph pointed it out to her and then shielded her from the eyes of the other guests until she had sorted out the mishap. As he then departed to serve the other guests, Lord Palmerston, who was obviously on his way to Sophie, met him. An evil suspicion crept up on Joseph when he thought he could see in the eyes of the Foreign Secretary the gaze of a predator on a foray. As the port wine in the carafes approached its end, and Joseph was on his way to the kitchen to provide for supplies, an idea came to him. He put the carafe on one of the tables in the corridor and then ran up the stairs to the first floor as fast as he could. In the afternoon he had complied with the ladies’ request and had arranged the exchange of Sophie’s and Princess of Leiningen’s rooms. Now he stood in front of these rooms again. Carefully he looked around and listened. When he was sure that nobody was watching him, he swapped the name tags on the doors. The ladies, he thought, would not notice. And in case they did notice, he could talk his way out of it by telling them he forgot to assign the name tags to the right doors in the hurry of which the work had to be done in the afternoon. However, if someone else were to look for the Duchess of Monmouth’s room that night, that person would have to deal with the Queen’s sister.

          What Joseph did not know (and should never know) - it came exactly as he had foreseen it. A few hours later, in the middle of the night, when Lord Palmerston sneaked into the “Duchess's” room, a nasty surprise awaited him.

          Something, however, told the servant that the danger posed by Lord Palmerston had not yet been averted. For this reason, the next day, whenever possible, he tried to be near Sophie. And indeed he watched as a meeting between her and the Foreign Secretary took place late in the morning in a rather hidden corner of the garden. He himself remained hidden in his small hiding place, a pergola, which led from the garden to the area with the small, enclosed ponds. From where he watched them, he couldn’t hear their conversation, but he saw Sophie suddenly clinging to Palmerston’s coat, pulling him to her. Her gaze, indeed her entire behavior, gave him the impression of a single, urgent plea. But the Foreign Minister reacted completely differently than Joseph had expected. Palmerston, as it seemed, distant himself from Sophie in a very harsh way and then hurried away. Sophie, too, ran away, but in the opposite direction, that is, in the very direction in which Joseph was hiding. He rushed out of his hiding place and wanted to sneak away so that Sophie would not see him. But he wasn’t fast enough and they almost collided on the way under the pergola.

          “Get out of my way” was all Joseph heard from her, then she hurried away.

          Joseph knew where her footsteps would lead her, and he followed her at some distance. And indeed, he found her standing at one of the small ponds. Carefully he approached her. He saw how he tried to wipe the tears from her face and handed her a handkerchief. She took it and he turned away discreetly. To his surprise, however, Sophie began to speak openly to him:

          “Such stupid tears! Why do I seek comfort where he cannot be found?

          Joseph looked at her and when he didn’t answer, she spoke to him directly:

          "Oh please, say something!

          He decided not to go into what had just happened, but to distract her a little.

          "Your Grace, listen! Do you hear the waves as they hit each other on the beach?”

          “The sea, it frightens me … a little,” she replied.

          “The sea makes me feel alive,” he said with a smile.

          She gave him back the handkerchief. Joseph bowed and as he went back to the house, he carefully folded the handkerchief and put it in his jacket pocket like a precious possession to be preserved. He did not know exactly what had happened between Sophie and Lord Palmerston. Joseph also did not understand why the Foreign Secretary, who had obviously been out for an adventure with the Duchess the night before, had now refrained from doing so. But basically, it didn’t matter. When Palmerston had rejected her, _he_ had been there for her. It was _his_ handkerchief that had caught her tears. And Joseph Weld was sure that the Duchess of Monmouth would not forget that. He should not be mistaken. The stay of the royal court on the island of Wight should have many surprises in store.


End file.
